Mobile Suit Gundam- | Ms Sensen 0079 -normal Down...

Rolf swore under his breath. Forty minutes. His GM’s fuel gauge read 14%. Leg actuators were squealing in the recorded playback—that telltale grind of sand in the knee joints. And the 100mm machine gun? Twenty-three rounds left. One burst. Maybe two.

The Zaku’s mono-eye died first.

Ensign Rolf Kessler, Federation MS Ground Team 08

“Thunder Lead, this is Thunder 3. Bogey down but intact. Requesting clearance to withdraw.” His voice was flat, recycled oxygen dry in his throat. Mobile Suit Gundam- MS Sensen 0079 -Normal Down...

Rolf killed the engine. The cockpit opened with a hiss of stale air. He climbed down the emergency ladder—no time for the lift—and his boots hit the mud.

“Copy. Pull back to Nav Point 7. Don’t engage anything.”

“Normal down, Ensign,” the tech said, not looking up from the GM’s shredded knee. “You walk or you get carried. That’s the rule.” Rolf swore under his breath

“He’s dead. For real this time.” Rolf’s hands were shaking. He flexed them inside the control gloves. “I’m Winchester. Zero rounds. Legs are yellow. Request immediate extract.”

He powered down non-essentials. No radar—gave away position. No comms unless encrypted burst. Just the hum of the reactor and the slow drip of hydraulic fluid from a bullet graze on the GM’s left thigh. He watched the Zaku.

At Nav Point 7, the resupply team was already setting up the portable catapult. A young tech with grease on his face waved him into the repair cradle. Leg actuators were squealing in the recorded playback—that

Don’t move. Please don’t move.

Rolf saw it through his GM’s primary camera—a flicker, then a dead glass orb. He didn’t cheer. He’d learned not to. A disabled Zaku wasn’t dead. It was a trap.